Love Between Enemies

by Molly E. Lee

  I’d done a lot of things I should’ve never done tonight.

  May as well keep pushing it.

  An icy sweat broke out on the back of my neck as I padded down the hallway that led to my parents’ master bedroom. My stomach was in knots, twisting tight like someone was wringing me out from the inside. I hadn’t been this nervous when I had to get up in front of half the school after Gordon had humiliated me—in retrospect, it didn’t seem that bad.

  I wrapped my knuckles against their door, not caring that it was past one a.m. This couldn’t wait.

  “Zoey?” My father’s voice grumbled from the other side before the door swung open. He squinted at me as he cinched his blue bathrobe tight around him. “Are you all right?”

  “I need to talk to you.” I motioned toward the living room behind me.

  “Can this not wait? I have an early meeting,” he whispered.

  “No. That’s why it can’t wait.” The seriousness in my tone seemed to wake him up better than his morning espresso.

  “Should I wake your mother?”

  I shook my head. “Only if you want to.”

  He stepped into the hallway and softly closed the door behind him. I took a seat on the couch after we’d both made it to the living room. He sat across from me, his eyes wide and alert.

  “What happened, Zoey?” He pressed the tips of his fingers against his lips. “Are you in trouble?”

  Funny how easily I could hold his attention when he thought I’d done something wrong, but not when I wanted to talk to him about real things—like the internship and Gordon. Oh well, he’d get his wish now if he did what I asked.

  “Something like that,” I said, wiping my palms on my thighs.

  “Do I need to call Linda?”

  Of course he’d want to know if we needed the company’s PR manager. “No,” I said, sighing. “Nothing is publicly tied to me.” But it should be.

  A breath went out of him and he settled into his seat. “Then what is so important you had to wake me up at one a.m.?”

  At least he wasn’t laying into me for staying out so late. “Can you remember the last time I asked you for anything?”

  He scrunched his brow. “Zoey, what has that got to do with—”

  “Please,” I cut him off. “Think about it.”

  He shook his head, his eyes rolling upward like he was trying to pinpoint the time. After a few seconds, he shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t remember.”

  “It’s because I haven’t.”

  “And?” He urged me onward.

  “And you have to know there is a reason behind that, right?”

  “I imagine so,” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “You never do anything without an objective in mind.” A small smile flashed before the genuine concern covered his features again.

  “You’re right,” I said, wishing for once he’d been wrong. “I’ve never asked you for help because I’ve never wanted to be accused of taking favors or using the family name to get ahead.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “But despite never asking, it’s never made a difference.” I shrugged. “People think I use you to get ahead anyway.”

  “What happened, Zoey?” He leaned forward.

  “I messed up. Hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Why?”

  “Revenge.” I chuckled darkly. “Something that seems so ridiculous now.” I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes to stop the tears from coming back. I was done crying. It was time to act. Time to fix. And by any means necessary. “It took seeing the damage on his face, seeing what I’d robbed of him, seeing him lose everything, to realize what I had. How lucky I’ve been.”

  “You’ve worked hard for everything you’ve earned, Zoey.”

  I darted my eyes up to him, shocked at the words that came out of his mouth. He rarely complimented me for my efforts. Instead he chose to shove the family business in my face like it was the only path I was allowed to take.

  “I know your mother and I have our own plans for you,” he continued. “But it’s only because we can see how incredibly brilliant you are, and we know you’ll do wonderful things wherever you end up. You can’t fault us for wanting you to use that mind of yours at the company we built on our backs.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “You’ve never put it like that before.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think I had to.”

  “Would’ve been nice to know.”

  “Now you do,” he said. “But we’re getting off topic.”

  “Right,” I said. “You know I can remember the first time someone accused me of using your bank account to gain something?” He arched an eyebrow at me. “It was in the eighth grade. I’d won first place in the science fair for my solar powered mini-car.”

  “You saved your allowance for months to buy the parts needed to make that car,” he said. “Even though I said I would get you whatever you needed.”

  “Katy Evans told everyone in the class that I wouldn’t have won if it hadn’t been for you buying all the expensive parts.” I shook my head. Gordon had gotten second place for a steam powered vehicle. Even back then, he’d been good—he’d shaken my hand when I’d beaten him and told me he’d get me next time. “That was the first day I promised myself I would never ask you for anything. Never give them any reason to say things like that to me again, but it didn’t matter…they kept it up behind my back all these years.” I shrugged. “Anyway, today I’m going to break that promise to myself.”

  “Well,” he said. “You certainly have my attention. What is my role in all this?”

  I took a deep breath and told him exactly what I needed.

  Sleep evaded me the rest of the night. I laid in bed for a couple of hours, rehashing the events of the night and trying to change them with the power of my mind. When that didn’t work, I hopped up and took a shower before the sun rose. I’d found the weekend hours of A&J Industries on their website, and headed to their offices just after six in the morning. I refused to think about how my dad would be leaving to meet with Gordon in a little under an hour, or worry about if he’d gotten the place in shape after I left. I couldn’t think about it anymore. I’d already stripped myself raw over it.

  The circles under my eyes were concealed by makeup, but I’m sure anyone who spared me a look would be able to see the exhaustion written all over my face. I’d pulled all-nighters before—studying, working, or prepping for a big project—but this was nothing compared to that. Those nights had been fueled by adrenaline of anticipation for what would come next. Now it was all dread and a little bit of hope that propelled me forward. My father had already agreed to my terms, and speaking with the hiring coordinator at A&J was the second to last step in rectifying the mess I’d made.

  “Ms. Handler?” Connie, the hiring coordinator, asked after her receptionist had told her I was here. “Come on in,” she said, motioning inside her small but elegant office. “What brings you here so early?”

  I took a seat in the available chair across from her desk.

  “We haven’t finalized the decision yet on the internship,” she hurried to say. “And the interview process is complete. Did someone tell you otherwise?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not here for another interview.”

  “All right, then. What can I do for you?” She laced her fingers over her desk.

  Now that I was here, the idea of actually going through with my plan squeezed my chest. I’d wanted this summer internship so badly I could taste it. But if I took a step back—which I was seriously trying to do since last night—and looked at it from Gordon’s point of view, he’d fit in here better than I would. A&J was the best market research company in the area, and as an economics major, Gordon would be the perfect analyst for them. I wanted to be here because one of the managers was a renowned international relations consultant, someone I could learn more from than in any classroom—but that was my sole reason. Not because I wanted to do analytics.

  “I wa
nt to withdraw my application.” The words were painful coming out of my mouth, but the air in my lungs expanded at the relief.

  Connie’s eyes popped. “You do realize that we narrowed it down to two candidates out of hundreds of applications?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I said, nodding. “I’m not trying to disrespect the amazing opportunity this company has given me from the mere fact that I’m one of those lucky two, but I know who else you’re looking at, and he’s the better choice.”

  She eyed me. “I was intrigued that you and Mr. Meyers attended the same school. The two of you are friends, then?”

  I wished. Maybe after this, he would consider giving me at least that much. “It’s complicated.”

  “Boys usually are.”

  “We’ve had our differences, as you can imagine.” I pushed some hair off my shoulder. “And yesterday…well, I took our competitions a little too far. I wanted to come here today to tell you personally that anything you may see about him on social media in the last twenty-four hours was a direct result of me. My actions. My plans. It had nothing to do with him, and it shouldn’t stand in your way of hiring him. He’s the smartest boy I know, and he will absolutely kill it for you here.”

  She studied me for a few moments. “This is quite an odd situation.”

  “I know,” I said, raising my hands in defense. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t have to be here, but you needed to know.” And I needed to make things right. Whatever happened now, at least I knew I did everything in my power to try and make up for what I’d done to him.

  “I’m impressed by your honesty,” she said, standing to shake my hand. “Thank you for coming to see me at first light.” Her smile was genuine, and mine was, too.

  “You’ll see,” I said, dropping her hand. “After he works here this summer, you’ll be begging him to stay.”

  “Glad to hear that. We need good people around here.” She watched me walk toward her door. “And Ms. Handler?”

  “Yes?” I stopped in the doorway.

  “Make sure he knows.”

  I tilted my head at her.

  “How much you care about him.” She smiled.

  I nodded, wishing it were that easy, and shut the door behind me. The sun had finally risen by the time I’d made it back to my car, and I dug in my purse for my cell phone. One last step.

  I dialed the number for Mrs. Rollins—our guidance counselor—and hoped she wouldn’t fault me the early morning wake up call.

  After this was all over, I was going to take a long nap. Maybe for an entire week depending on how it all played out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gordon

  “Something sure smells good,” Mr. Handler said as he stepped through the door. “If you don’t count the…” He sniffed again as he took a seat at the bar. “Disinfectant?”

  I cringed and willed my hand not to shake as I sat his freshly made Belgium waffles and black bacon in front of him. “I wanted the place perfect for you, sir,” I said. Not a total lie, but not total truth, either. I spun around, grabbed the coffee I’d made for him along with a tall glass of ice water and set it next to his plate. “It’s not espresso,” I said, “but that’s only because I don’t have the funds for the machine. If you decide to invest in this business, that will be the first purchase we make.”

  He scooped up the mug and took a fast sip. “I’ve had worse.”

  Perfect. I took a deep breath, willing my eyes to look sharp and intelligent as opposed to exhausted and strung out.

  Jay and I had worked through the night, and I’d only had an hour to go home and grab my paperwork before having to get back here in time to make Mr. Handler’s breakfast. I was beyond tired. So tired I thought my brain might literally be mush, but I couldn’t give up.

  Zoey had done her best to ruin my shot at the internship so that hope was gone. But this? If I could do this…if I could convince Mr. Handler to not flip us…everything else would be bearable.

  I swallowed the acid crawling up my throat and reached for the blue folder I had on the bar as Mr. Handler tore into his waffles.

  “Mmm,” he said around a mouthful. “I should come here for breakfast more often.”

  My brows raised as I opened the folder, hope surging me with a much-needed spike of adrenaline. “You should,” I said. “Let me show you why.”

  Mr. Handler ate and, aside from a few questions, remained mostly quiet as I went over my proposal.

  He would own more than 50 percent of the shop, but my father would have the freedom to change and improve as needed.

  “And this will return a profit for me?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I explained that between losing the dead weight that was his old partner, and further implementing the device I’d rigged to increase our profit margins, the shop would be a sure-fire earner for him.

  “We’ve already established ourselves with the community,” I continued, finally setting the figures down as he took his last bite of bacon. “We have a set of regulars that account for forty percent of our business. And with new freshman coming in each year, we have a steady stream of fresh customers since the place has been a laid-back yet safe place for students to come and eat and study.”

  I took a deep breath, wishing I could read him. His face wasn’t exactly stone cold, but it wasn’t an open book, either. “There is much less of a risk,” I continued, “profit wise, if you stick with us and our operating plan. Flipping this into a coffee shop will not only take time and renovation money, you run the risk of losing the regular clientele we’ve worked years to acquire.”

  I sighed, my shoulders dropping now that I’d delivered the finality of my proposal. I wasn’t sure if Zoey had spoken to him before he came here this morning, and I was trying like hell to ignore the curiosity. She wouldn’t be able to sway his mind on such a big business deal, unless perhaps she told him about our kiss. Then he may be waiting to sign the papers and bulldoze it to the ground. I shuddered.

  Mr. Handler never took his eyes off me, even when he finished the last sip from his mug of coffee. He laid his hand over the now closed folder, shaking his head. “I always knew you were smart,” he said. “You had to be, constantly battling my Zoey.”

  Her name shot a spear of ice through my chest, but I kept my face even.

  “But I didn’t realize just how smart you were.” He sighed. “It’s funny what you can see when you’re really looking, huh, Gordon?”

  I narrowed my eyes, unsure what he was trying to get at, but he shrugged it off just as quickly.

  “I had an interesting conversation with my daughter last night…”

  The ground fell out from beneath me and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. The man could likely smell my fear.

  “Not about this meeting,” he said. “But about…well, sacrifices. We had a moment…one I’ve been desperate to have for years, but I didn’t know how to find a common ground between us. And somehow, I owe that moment to you.” He pointed at me, and I tried not to look as confused as I felt. Not sleeping hadn’t helped me stay sharp at all. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I wouldn’t dare tell her that. You know how hardheaded she can be. She gets that from me. Which makes it hard to communicate sometimes.” He sighed. “Sometimes we can get so focused on our plans, on seeing out our objectives, that nothing else matters.” He waved his hand as he stood up. “We can’t see anything other than the win.” He arched a brow at me as he slipped on the suit jacket that he’d slung over the opposite barstool. “I’m sure you can understand that.”

  I furrowed my brow. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “Lack of sleep is making it very hard to understand what you’re saying right now.”

  “I’m saying thank you.” He eyed his cleaned plate. “For breakfast. For whatever happened between you and my daughter to lead us to that moment last night. And for caring about something as much as you do this business.” He glanced around the shop that had been my second home for as long as I c
ould remember. “It’s refreshing,” he continued. “Seeing that kind of passion matched with this kind of business savvy. Reminds me of me when I first started the company way back when.” He smiled, his eyes glazing for a bit as he walked toward the door. “I’ll have my lawyer draft up the papers today.”

  The door opened before he could get there, my dad freezing in the entryway, his eyes darting between us.

  I stood frozen, locked in place and terrified this was all a dream. “Sir?” I asked for clarification.

  Mr. Handler looked at my dad, but motioned to me with his head. “You’ve raised a smart boy, there.” He turned to me, nodding. “I accept your proposal. Fill your dad in and set up a time with my secretary for us all to have a sit-down midweek, okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you, sir!” I called as he pushed past my dad and the door shut behind him. The familiar chime of the bell over the door was like a release on the tension I’d held, and I dropped to the floor.

  Dad rushed around to the back of the bar, kneeling with wide and confused eyes. “What’d I miss, kid? You pop the question to Mr. Handler over waffles?”

  I laughed so hard two tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I swiped them away and leaned my head back against the cabinet, my elbows on my knees. “No, Dad,” I said, grinning. “I convinced him to become an investor, not a flipper.”

  Dad tilted his head. “You mean…”

  I nodded. “We get to keep her.”

  Dad’s mouth parted and closed several times before he crushed me in a hug.

  Losing the scholarship sucked. Losing the internship hurt. Losing Zoey…well, I’d never had her in the first place, I guess…but it was worse.

  Saving the shop? That made it all seem…worth it somehow. Like I got a piece of myself back, and when all facets of my life had practically shattered yesterday, that was a good as hell feeling.

  …